–Lore–
What she did to was cruel.
Pure, calculated cruelty.
I clutched the pillow when she hovered over —too close, too confident, wearing that teasing smile like she knew exactly what she was doing to my sanity. My breath stalled. My brain short-circuited. Every instinct scread to pull her closer, to flip the situation entirely—but damn it.
I couldn’t.
Holding back hurt more than I was willing to admit.
And then—just like that—she left. As if she hadn’t just turned my composure into dust.
The mont she was gone, I grabbed the pillow she’d used, buried my flushed face into it, and let out a groan of pure frustration. Not because I wanted to be reckless—but because wanting her felt constant. Loud. Relentless.
I took a long mont to breathe. To calm myself down. To shake off her smile, her voice, her addictive presence that lingered far longer than it should have.
Cold water. Fresh clothes. A neatly made bed.
Control restored. Barely.
I headed downstairs just in ti for Livana and Damon to arrive, Livana calmly announcing that soone had been feeding Tyrona information—proof that she was alive.
Honestly? I wasn’t worried.
That woman was dangerously calculative. If anything, I almost felt bad for whoever thought they were smarter than her.
We gathered our things after Damon bathed their son, then climbed into the bulletproof car. Kai drove. Sophia took the shotgun seat. Sky sat in the middle, strapped in like the precious cargo he was, his parents flanking him protectively.
I was in the backseat—with Alyssa.
As far to the side as possible.
I hugged a pillow like it was a life raft. I needed distance. I needed my brain to behave. I needed to stop thinking about her in ways that would only make the wait harder.
So I did the most responsible thing possible.
I put on an eye mask, reclined my seat, pulled the blanket over myself, and went to sleep.
Yes. Sleep. That was the plan.
I didn’t even realize how fast we’d arrived until Alyssa nudged gently.
"You slept the whole ride," she said.
I peeked outside.
A villa.
A very fine villa.
"Oh," I muttered.
Livana had already taken Sky with Damon, pulling on a black hat to hide her hair as they headed inside.
"We need to rehearse for the cotillion," Alyssa said.
I nodded.
She lingered in the car for a mont longer before finally stepping out.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath.
Ignoring her was hard. Wanting her was harder.
I hated holding back—but I would. I’d wait until she graduated. I’d wait even if she fell for soone else.
I’d still be there.
Waiting.
I followed her into the villa. Everything was perfectly prepared. She smiled as she looked up at the chandelier, eyes full of awe.
"This looks gorgeous."
I followed her gaze, noting the caras discreetly placed exactly where I needed them.
Then I looked back at her.
She was gorgeous.
"Indeed," I agreed, taking her hand and twirling her gently. I caught her smoothly, our eyes eting as I winked. "I think I got the steps right."
She gaped at .
And if she only knew how badly I wanted to kiss that expression away.
"Kids!"
David’s shout snapped us back to reality.
"Spa. Now," he barked. "You’ve got thirty-four hours! Chop-chop!"
I pulled Alyssa upright, straightening my posture.
"Alright," I said dramatically. "Let’s get this over with. I need my beauty sleep and a spa."
She laughed, keeping pace beside .
"Have you been practicing dancing?" she asked. "Like shadow fighting?"
"I might have," I grinned.
"I’m sorry you were at my last dance," she said softly. "I an... I don’t really have—"
"I’m honored, Princess," I told her, smiling genuinely.
"Will your parents be here?"
I shrugged.
"But my brother definitely will."
She nodded.
"I like your mom."
I grinned wider.
"She likes you too."
"Really?" she asked, still unsure.
"I need more sleep," I yawned. "Where’s my room?"
"Probably the west wing."
She led there. My door had my na on it. Hers was directly across from mine.
"Hey!"
We turned to see Logan, Zendaya on one arm, Zayvier holding his hand.
"Their parents are in the spa," Logan said.
"So?" I raised a brow.
"Watch them."
"I need to sleep."
"I’ll take them," Alyssa said without hesitation, lifting Zendaya and taking Zayvier’s hand. "We’ll go to Sky."
Zendaya hugged her imdiately, kissing her cheeks.
I watched.
And yeah—my mind betrayed .
I was thinking of Alyssa as a wife.
Damn it.
I entered my room and shut the door, finally forcing myself to stop looking.
I just needed to get her out of my head.
I’d wait.
Until the party.
–Livana–
After Alyssa took Sky to play with the twins, the house softened into a rare quiet. My husband had already prepared the bath—steam curling like silk in the air—and laid out fresh bandages, gentle and precise, ready to tend to my wound. It was nothing serious, just a graze and a few stitches, but the way he cared for it made it feel sacred. Our bed waited, dressed in white sheets and the low glow of scented candles, their fragrance warm and intimate.
"I know," he said with a crooked grin, eyes lingering on . "It’s midday."
Then, softer, closer—"But I want a baby girl who looks like you."
I laughed, shaking my head. "What if she doesn’t look exactly like ?"
"It doesn’t matter." His voice was certain, indulgent. "I want another baby girl. We can try—every year, or every other year."
I laughed again, helplessly fond. This was him—decisive, relentless, sohow always persuasive. He had a way of making desire feel like destiny.
He pampered the way he always did—attentive, reverent, as if loving was both a privilege and ritual. His devotion wrapped around until ti blurred. When it finally slowed, I knew I wouldn’t make it to the spa after all.
I closed my eyes, ready to sleep, only to feel his presence again—this man, endlessly devoted, endlessly distracting. Eventually, with the soft insistence of a knock at the door, he slipped a shirt over , the cotton warm with his scent. He cleared the candles, gathered the towels we’d used to protect the bed from our own excess, and smiled like none of it bothered him at all.
"Dada!" Sky’s voice chid brightly.
"Hello, baby," Damon said, lifting him easily. "Are you going to nap now?"
"Sweeep!" Sky pointed at .
Damon placed him gently on the bed. Sky crawled straight into my arms and hugged , his small warmth anchoring . He noticed the bandage imdiately.
"Owie?" he asked, tapping it with careful fingers.
I nodded. He pulled the sheet higher, as if that alone could protect . My sweet, thoughtful boy.
"How do you like your baby sister, Sky?" Damon asked, grinning like he already knew the answer.
"Sissy!" Sky exclaid, then patted the space beside him, motioning for his father to lie down too.
I sighed at the sight—my heart full, my body pleasantly tired, my world reduced to this small, perfect triangle. While our son had been busy playing with his cousins, my husband had poured himself into loving , and now he poured himself just as fully into our child.
He is sothing mighty, my husband—unyielding, passionate, endlessly devoted.
And I know, without doubt, that I will never tire of loving him back.
—Damon—
I wanted to laugh. This little human acts so mature—adorably clingy, unapologetically bossy. I lay beside him as he took his task seriously, tugging the duvet, tucking us in like it was his house and we were rely guests. He patted my head, kissed my forehead with authority, then crawled to his mother and curled into her, arms wrapped tight around her like a shield.
I turned to Livana. She was grinning from ear to ear.
I still never get used to that face—this beautiful, unguarded happiness. Ever since I fell in love with her, smiles were rare things. She was always composed, strict, calm on the surface, but I knew better. There was always a storm in her chest, a mind that never slept. She managed it well. She always did.
But after she got pregnant—after she started to choose —I began seeing more of her. Softer. Warr. Real.
And then there’s Sky. Expressive, mischievous, sweet in a way that disarms you before you realize he’s already won. Every ti he does sothing clever, sothing bold, my wife either laughs or smiles like he just conquered the world. Always trying to outshine his father where his mother is concerned.
I leaned in and kissed Livana.
She kissed back.
Sky imdiately shoved my face away from her with both hands.
"No! No!" he hissed, genuinely offended.
"Damon," Livana whispered, amused, "stop teasing Sky."
I grinned.
Not sorry.
Soon, both of them fell asleep—my wife breathing slow and steady, my son clinging to her like she was the axis of his world. I slipped out carefully, pulled the duvet higher over Livana’s shoulder, then dressed and headed downstairs.
The villa was alive.
Staff moved with quiet precision, preparing for tomorrow. I crossed into the ballroom and watched as Alyssa’s friends and our relatives rehearsed. My sister stood there, elegant, glowing. And Lore—damn it—he fit beside her too well.
That boy has been in love with my sister for a long ti. Patient. Waiting. Smarter than he lets on.
"Perfect!" Mom clapped once. "Alright, gown fittings—now."
I turned to Francis as he tilted his head, already reading my intention. We walked off together toward the newly installed control room. He briefed as we went—different from the Nest, but efficient. Enough to lock down the entire area. Separate CCTV operators. Additional security layers.
The north chamber of the villa—our chamber—had glass doors with facial recognition. No one enters casually. Not guests. Not staff.
And certainly not anyone looking for my wife.
The world still believes she’s dead.
We’re not done dancing yet.
The guard by the door logged data on his tablet, eyes flicking between monitors. He stood and saluted. I nodded and passed.
Down we went—into the Nest beneath the north chamber. I sat beside Francis as he slid a box onto the table.
Fancy ribbons. Expensive wrapping.
"We couldn’t X-ray it," he said quietly. "It’s from Tyrona."
I didn’t blink.
"Send the robots," I ordered. "Have them open it."
Francis nodded. Laura’s company had outdone themselves this ti—security robots, Lore involved in the developnt. That alone explained why the kid was a millionaire now. Which is exactly why I don’t mind him marrying my sister.
He doesn’t need money.
He doesn’t crave power.
And n like that are the most dangerous kind—especially when they donate anonymously to schools no one bothers to visit. Free education. Secluded areas.
Francis activated the system.
The robot moved toward the box.
And just before the seal broke, every monitor in the room flickered at once.
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